


"You Always Say That"

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Ratings: G, kids fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: Summary: Remix ofWishing Candles  by emi_chirescue. After Harry’s dorm-mates try to poison him, he needs a safe place. Moving in to the manor on the weekends allows him a chance to see another side of Draco. And gives Draco a chance to show Harry how much he cares.





	"You Always Say That"

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. Nothing else referenced is mine either. Wishing Candles belong to emi_chirescue.  
> Author's notes: emi_chirescue, thank you so much for the opportunity to play with such an interesting and provocative take on the beginning of Harry and Draco’s romance. As soon as I read this story, I knew it was the one I had to remix. I loved the concept of children from the future. I adored the children themselves, and the chance to see another side of the Malfoy’s was a real inspiration. I hope what I’ve done with your story meets with your approval, or at least acceptance. Massive thanks to my beta WW.
> 
> While it may not be necessary to read the previous work, this will probably make more sense if you do: https://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/166669.html Wishing Candles by emi_chirescue

Harry ached all over. He hadn’t a clue where he was or what had happened. Cracking open an eye, barely a slit, he saw that it looked a lot like the hospital wing. Good. He knew he’d soon be feeling better. The hospital wing almost felt like his second home, he’d spent so much time there. 

Pressure against his side, both sides and warm breath huffed against his skin. His curiosity was short lived, as he remembered his children from the future, Ara and Scorpius. They must have climbed into bed with him. Scorpius, especially, would have been loathe to let Harry or ‘Daddy’ out of his sight. 

Harry turned his head to find Malfoy curled up in the chair next to him. Malfoy looked so exhausted; Harry wondered how long he’d been there. Harry’s current position was uncomfortable, so he attempted to change it. Then wished he’d had left well enough alone. It bloody hurt. His body: muscles, nerves, bones, and skin; not a single part of him was left out in the party of pain it was having. Unable to stop, he let out a low moan. 

Malfoy woke with a start. His eyes snapped open, and his hand squeezed Harry’s. Hard like a vice. 

“Harry?” Malfoy sounded surprised, like he had expected someone else. 

Harry frowned at him. Then realised that maybe Malfoy was just surprised Harry had woken, like maybe he’d got used to him being unconscious. “How long have I been out?" Harry asked. 

 

***

 

He’d been unconscious for three weeks. From what the others had told him, Ara, Scorpius, Hermione and Ginny, not to mention Madam Pomfrey, Malfoy had barely left his side. Arrangements had been made to have his assignments sent to the hospital wing. 

The only time Malfoy wasn’t at the hospital wing, was when he was taking care of the children. They were living with his parents at the manor. Getting them to leave Harry’s side had proven very difficult. The three of them had pretty much taken up permanent residence at the hospital wing. Or so his adopted sisters, Hermione and Ginny, had told him. 

At last Harry was being released – two days after he’d awoken. Madam Pomfrey refused to release him from her care until she was positive he’d recovered. Malfoy had left his side only long enough to floo home, shower, change clothes and try to sneak some of Harry’s favourite foods past not only Madame Pomfrey, but Scorpius as well. Much like his father Scorpius, as it turned out, was a little tyrant. Nothing would interfere with his Daddy getting better, not even his Father. 

They were all in the hospital wing waiting for Harry to be officially released. 

“With all due respect, Headmaster,” the raised voice of Lucius Malfoy could be heard from the hallway. “That is my future son-in-law in there. One day, he will give birth to my grandchildren. I’ve grown to love the children dearly. His dorm mates attempted to poison him. How can he fulfill their prophecy and the other as well, if he’s killed before he even finishes his schooling? You will release him to come and live at the manor with us, Draco and the children as well.” 

Muffled voices came through the closed door. Harry and Draco both listened carefully. The children as well remained still. Harry recognized Professor Dumbledore’s voice, but could not make out the words.

“Very well, if the weekends are the best you can do. I will have to be content with that. But –” and there was an ominous silence, “if any additional harm comes to him, I am not opposed to bringing your failure to protect one of your students to the Board’s attention. Your current position could well be in jeopardy. Mr Potter’s well-being is very important to my grandchildren’s health and well – their reality. ” 

 

***

 

The more he was around Malfoy, the more Harry could began to feel himself becoming attracted to him. He was still a git, but Malfoy was a gentle git – to those he cared for. Warm and affectionate, he never seemed to tire of having his hands on Harry. Light strokes to his cheek, rubs along his forearm, gentle presses of his hand on Harry’s. Plus Malfoy could kiss like a dream. 

The kisses had remained soft and innocent. Though, with the least bit of encouragement from Harry, they would have rapidly heated into much more. With each kiss he felt himself loosening and relaxing, wanting more. 

Harry soon found, he lived for the weekends. 

Narcissa, Malfoy’s mother, was a gracious host, and clearly doted on her grandchildren, especially Scorpius. Lucius, it turned out, had a wicked, if exceptionally dry sense of humour. Most of the time his jokes went right over Harry’s head, but Hermione would often still be chuckling over them hours later. As his siblings, Hermione and Ginny were welcome at the manor whenever they wanted.

Harry loved seeing how many of the people from his past showed in his children. Scorpius had inherited James’, Harry’s father’s, sense of playfulness and ability to tease. Harry would have to make sure it didn’t become vicious teasing like his father’s could be. Scorpius also had a very special and gentle way of magic. Although too young to have mastered it, Harry strongly felt Scorpius would rival Lily, Harry’s mother. He already had a way of opening closed hearts.

Ara’s eyes were so much like Draco’s. Harry often found the answers to things that were bothering him in those eyes. She, being eight, didn’t have the answers. But somehow he found them in the wisdom of those eyes. And if she’d inherited Narcissa’s social grace; it seemed she’d got a bit of Lucius’s wit as well. And even when Harry didn’t always understand the humour; she never held that against him. 

She did however hold it against him if he left his stuff lying around the house. Much like his Aunt Petunia, she was a stickler for a clean and tidy house. She could be rather aggressive about this. He was shocked and disappointed by this, until he realised Petunia had been Lily’s sister. For all he knew his mother could have been the same. 

 

***

 

Harry and Lucius spent long hours in his study going over plans for the future. Certain circumstances of his life may have changed, but the prophecy still remained. One day Harry and the Dark Lord would meet in the final battle. Draco often joined them, although generally he just listened while the other two discussed the options. How Malfoy kept Draco and Harry’s new relationship status from the Dark Lord, Harry did not know. Then again, Lucius Malfoy had been and would continue to be the master of manipulation. Harry had more important things to think of.

Like how Malfoy was slowly becoming Draco. How Draco’s room, large enough to be made into two separate rooms, with separate beds in each room, had become one room. And how the two beds had with each subsequent weekend stay had moved closer together. Finally the only thing that separated them was the slight gap where the two beds met. The only thing that kept it from becoming one bed was Harry. His doubts about Draco were lessening, but still, he wasn’t ready to take the next step. 

“I thought you claimed to be gay,” Draco huffed one evening. He and Harry had been kissing for what seemed like hours. Glorious hours as far as Harry was concerned. Draco on the other hand was clearly frustrated. 

“I am gay. I’ve been snogging for hours, haven’t I?” 

“Yes, and as much as I love it. I think we’re ready for more.”

Harry said nothing; his gaze remained glued to the floor.

Draco placed his finger under Harry’s chin and lifted it. Grey eyes stared into his. “What is it, Harry?”

“I’m just not ready. I want to, but something is telling me it’s not yet time.” 

Draco let out a small sigh of amused displeasure. “You always say that. Well, you be sure and let me know when that something tells you it is time. Until then, I’ll wait.” He pulled Harry back into his arms. Harry felt Draco’s affection for him in the kiss that followed. 

 

***

 

Every Saturday morning, at breakfast, Harry would find a gift of some kind from Draco. It could be something as simple as new laces for his trainers, or as complicated as a new spell for Ginny’s mass of curls. Draco knew how much happiness it brought Harry to be able to do things to make others happy. There were Chocolate Frogs, Every Flavour Beans, and new quills, as Harry tended to chew the ends off his while studying.

Frequently, there was some new hair gel for him to try. Draco had been quite adamant about his ability to bring control where none had existed before. Then seeing how he failed more than succeeded, it became a bit of a running joke. After Harry had shampooed, Draco would apply the new gel. The rest of the family would bring snacks and take up seats while they all waited to see how badly the new gel would fail. Sometimes there were even bets placed. One evening as Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair he told him secretly he hoped none of them worked. He’d grown rather fond of Harry’s mad hair. 

 

***

 

“Are you and Daddy fighting?” Ara asked them one Sunday morning. 

Harry and Draco had both put down their cups. “Why do you ask that?” 

“You used to only sleep in separate beds if you were fighting. Or, that is, you’d start the night apart. Usually though by morning, one of you would start missing the other, or feeling lonely. You’d get up, take your blanket and pillow and go to where the other one was.” Ara explained how things had been, or rather would be. “You would always have your slippers and robe on, but Daddy would just tiptoe down the hall in his pants and bare feet.”

“Yes,” Scorpius piped in, “and sometimes it would be really cold and he’d run through the house, complaining about how cold it was. He’d jump into bed with you, and you’d scream at him to get his 'bloody' cold feet off you. But you really didn’t mean it.”

“How’d you know I didn’t mean it?” 

Ara and Scorpius both looked very shy. “Because it would get really quiet and then we could hear you laughing and whispering and making kissing noises. You would do that a lot when you’d been fighting,” Ara explained. 

“And Daddy always said the best part about fighting was the making up part,” Scorpius added.

“The only times you spent the whole night apart was when you were really angry at each other.”

“Yes, and it would be horrible. Ara and I didn’t like it. We don’t want it to be like that here.”

“And how do you know this? Shouldn’t you have been in bed and asleep while all this was going on?” Draco had slipped into the role as Father with little hardship. Much to Harry’s surprise, Draco was warm and affectionate with the children, but also knew how to guide with a firm hand. He took his role very seriously. 

“You always say that, when you find me still awake. I don’t sleep well, when you’ve been fighting. I worry.” Yes, in the short time he had known her, he had come to realise, Ara was the one that made sure all was safe and secure and that everyone was happy in their home. He wondered if the future him knew that.

 

***

 

“Daddy, can you read me a story?” Scorpius asked one evening after he was tucked up in bed. He’d been feeling ill and was very listless.

“Sure. Do you have a favourite you’d like me to read?”

“Read me the one about Charlotte and Wilbur.”

Harry froze. “What? Charlotte and Wilbur? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He could tell his voice was shaky.

“Of course you do, Daddy. It’s your favourite book,” Ara said. “You read it to us all the time.”

“What is this book they’re talking about? Harry? Harry, what’s wrong?” Draco’s voice rose in real concern. 

Harry couldn’t blame him. He was sure he looked as if he might faint. He couldn’t speak. 

“When Daddy was a little boy, he wasn’t treated very nicely by the people he lived with. His cousin, Dudley, got all the good stuff and Daddy only got the broken and used up rejects. So he had no nice books of his own,” Scorpius began and then had a bit of a coughing fit and had to stop.

Ara took up the story. “Uncle Dudley is nicer now, I mean where we come from. He and his wife and Penny, come to dinner sometime. I don’t like Penny much, but the others are okay.”

“Is anyone going to finish telling me the story and who, or what exactly, are Charlotte and Wilbur?” Draco questioned again. He had taken hold of Harry’s hand and was holding it firmly in his. Harry had still not said a word. He couldn’t. 

“Charlotte is a spider and Wilbur is a pig,” Scorpius said. “The most amazing spider and the best pig in the whole wide world. Wilbur was some pig.”

Draco’s face was almost comical in its look of confusion. “Go on,” though, was all he said.

“Well, as we said, Daddy didn’t have nice things, so he didn’t have a lot of books. But the school had a library. And one day Daddy checked out the book Charlotte’s Web. He read it all in just one day. He loved it. He read it over and over again. He kept renewing it from the library, so he could read it again. Then one day, someone else had asked to check out the book, so he couldn’t have it any more.”

“He said that it broke his heart. Charlotte and Wilbur and Templeton and the other animals on the farm felt like the only friends he had.”

“Wait, whose Templeton?” Draco interrupted the story telling.

“Templeton is the rat,” she answered and then carried on her story, paying no attention to her Father’s look of dismay. 

“Then one day, he saw the book left lying on the floor of the library, behind the trash can. Then he did something he shouldn’t have done. Something Daddy’s told us we should never do. And would never have a reason to do, because he and Father would always make sure we had everything we needed or wanted.”

“Within reason,” Draco interrupted her. 

She smiled at Draco. “You always say that, Father.” 

“So what did he do?” 

“He nicked it,” she said with a little giggle. “Our Daddy nicking something, that just seems so impossible. But he swears he did.” 

Harry couldn’t hold it any longer. “How do you know this? I’ve never told this story to anyone. Not even Ginny or Hermione know this.” 

“You told us, Daddy. You’ve told us all about your childhood, and how you felt so unloved and unwanted as a child. Sometimes when you remember you get really sad, and Father always hugs you and kisses you and tells you how much he wants you.”

Harry looked over at Draco who mouthed at him, “I do and I will.” 

“It’s really a lot of mushy stuff. I don’t like watching it,” Scorpius interrupted.

“Anyway, you told us about this one day, before you nicked the book. Dudley had been really mean to you that day, and your aunt and uncle had punished you for something you hadn’t done. You’d been sent to your room without dinner.” 

Draco looked up sharply at this. “They didn’t feed you?”

Harry shrugged. “Not always.”

“But he had to get back up later and go and clean the kitchen. He told us he used to sneak bites of the left-overs. He had to be quick; if they caught him, he got in more trouble. While waiting for them to finish, he would wish and pray that something good would happen and it wouldn’t be like this anymore. And while he waited, he kept rereading the book.” 

Draco’s face was livid. “And did it?”

“Well yes, and no,” Harry said. His mind was exploding and his heart was full to bursting. This was his family. These two children knew things that no one else could possibly know. 

“You want to finish telling the story or should I?” he asked Ara.

“Can I? I want to make sure I’ve got it all correct. Besides...” she nodded her head at Scorpius who was snuggled down in his bedding, eyes closed and resting quietly. 

Draco brushed their son’s hair back from his forehead and Harry bent over to give him a kiss. The child murmured sleepily, “Don’t stop telling Daddy’s story. I want to hear it again,” and rolled over, Leo II clutched to his chest. Or maybe this was Leo I and the other had been Leo II, they could not settle on the answer. 

“Well, when he had finished with his chores, he got back to his room. And there, right next to his bed, he saw a spider’s web –”

“In his room? Potter, you had spiders in your room?” Draco interrupted. 

“Lots of them, but this one was special. Let’s let Ara finish telling it.”

“Yes, this one was special. Because there was one spider, and it was looking at him. Like it understood, like it knew how hard things were for him. And so he began slowly to speak to it. And it always seemed to be listening to him. It never left or interrupted before he was finished, unlike most of the others. So he told it all of his problems, about how he was so unhappy and how he wanted someone or something to save him, and give him a happy life.”

“And did it talk back to you?” Draco asked.

“No, I’m a Parseltongue, not an Arachnidvoice,” Harry laughed. “I’m sure it didn’t understand a word I said, but I thought it did. Just having it there made it feel like it was going to all be okay. Every night I’d go into my room and I’d talk to it. It made me feel not so lonely. Charlotte – I had to name her that, didn’t I? – was my only friend. I thought she was going to save me. Save me like Charlotte had saved Wilbur. Each night I’d go to sleep thinking the next morning she would have made a web over my bed, telling everyone that I was special, and that I was worth loving.”

“How did you know it was a she?” Draco’s voice cracked. He seemed incapable of saying anything more. 

“I didn’t at first. I wanted it to be, so I decided it was a she. Then later I saw the eggs she had laid.” Harry couldn’t speak for a moment. His Charlotte’s death had occurred not too long after that. Charlotte had never got to see her babies being born. 

She had been fine when he went to dinner that night. He’d not got back to his room until late, as not only did he have to wash up after dinner. He also had to help Dudley write a report on spiders; Harry knew a lot about spiders. Just as Harry was about to be able to go to his room to do his own homework, Dudley, who had eaten too much pudding at dinner, had got sick and made a mess in the loo. Harry had to clean that up, as well. 

When he’d got back to his room, she was still. He poked her lightly, with his finger, which usually made her flail her legs a bit. But still she didn’t move. He poked her again, this time with more force. She remained motionless. Nothing he did would make her move; try as hard as he could. It was then he realised she was dead. His only friend, the only one that let him talk, let him tell about his day, all the good and the bad. His only friend was dead. He sobbed, didn’t just weep silent tears, but sobbed, loud and suffocating tears. Tears that had fallen so hard and so fast, he almost thought he was going to choke on them. Wished he would choke on them, he wanted to join her. 

He’d cried so loud and so long that he even woke the Dursleys. Petunia was afraid the neighbours would hear, so she wanted him to be quiet. Vernon was concerned about the loss of sleep he was getting, and Dudley just wanted to know if he could have another piece of cake. He was hungry. 

Hours later, after they had all returned to bed, telling him to keep it down, Harry had cried himself out.

He still couldn’t speak of all that had happened that night. He only told them of finding Charlotte dead, and being upset. As well as the part about the Dursleys being angry with him, he told the three of them that. He knew he would, sometime in the future, just not tonight.

“After that night, something in me died. I’ve been afraid to really trust in that kind of love again. Only Hogwarts and my friends I’ve made here have made me feel I was worth anything. The next morning, my aunt came into my room. She found the copy of the book I had nicked and she threw it out.”

“Why? Did she know you had stolen it?” 

“It was my punishment for having woken them. She thought I’d been crying about the book.”

“Did you ever get another copy?”

Harry shook his head no. By this time, Ara too was asleep. They covered their children and kissed them each another good night. 

As they were walking out the room Draco asked, “What about the babies from the eggs? Did they make it?”

“No. When my aunt had come into the room, she found the spider’s nest. Had the whole place fumigated after that. I think she was afraid they might get into the rest of the house. The babies all died.”

“That heartless bitch,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“You always say that,” Ara muttered sleepily from her bed, apparently not as asleep as they had thought. 

 

***

 

The next morning, after breakfast, Draco excused himself. He had an errand he needed to do. When he returned home a few hours later, there was a sack in his hand. The label on it read, Golden Treasury, a Bookstore for Children. Baffled, Harry looked at him. Golden Treasury was Harry’s favourite, but it was a Muggle book store, found only in the most Muggle part of London. The part of London Draco refused to venture into. 

Draco smiled at him and told him it would have to wait until lunch. He wanted the others to be there as well.

Luckily for Harry, lunch was served soon. After the table was cleared, Draco handed the bag to Harry. 

Inside it was a wrapped present, the size and shape of a book. Gently Harry lifted it out of the bag, and placed it on the table. Draco was always giving him presents. But this one felt like it was going to be very special. Harry tried to take the wrappings off without tearing them, until Draco snapped.

“Just rip it open. It doesn’t matter if the wrapping is torn. I didn’t leave the house before my second cup of coffee for bloody wrapping paper.” 

Inside was a copy of Charlotte’s Web. Hardback, unscratched, unmarked, and un-smudged by hundreds of other hands that had held it. 

Harry could barely speak. The adults around the table remained silent as well. They weren’t sure what was going on, but they all seemed to know something special was happening.

“You bought me Charlotte’s Web? You went into London, and made it all the way to the Golden Treasury, to get me this book?”

“Umm, well yes.” Draco was now a lovely shade of pale rose. “I mean, it’s your favourite book. The children seem to love it as well. We should have a copy of it here, so you can read it to them. And me, I don’t know Charlotte and Wilbur’s story, or Templeton’s. I want to know more about the rat. It means so much to you; I just wanted you to have your own copy. One no one could take away from you.” 

Harry open up the book, and inside on the back was an inscription from Draco. It was private for Harry alone. Ara and Scorpius jumped up.

“That’s the book. That’s the one we always read from.” Ara’s face grew sad. “Only ours got too old, the pages started falling out, and it got covered with jam and treacle.”

“And Daddy got really mad at Father,” Scorpius said in a really low voice. 

Harry who had got up from the table and was about the give Draco the kiss he deserved and the kiss that Harry wanted to give him, looked up sharply at this. “Why did I get mad at Draco?”

“Because he threw it in the bin.” Ara said. “He bought you a new one, a nicer one. He said it was a First edition of the book. And it was special, because the writer had actually signed it. He’d had to win it an auction from some place called Heritage House. It had cost him a lot of Muggle money. He didn’t mind that, he only wanted Daddy to have the best.”

“And he doesn’t like that?” Draco too wanted to hear the rest.

“He wanted the original, the one you had given him long ago. He said, that it was then, when he had opened up the present, that he knew, really knew Father loved him. And that each time he held the book in his hands it helped him remember that. Even when he and Father were in a fight, and they fought a lot,” Ara said and Scorpius nodded his agreement. “He knew that Father really loved him.” 

Harry straightened and pulled Draco up by his hand until he too was standing. “Excuse us; we have some things to attend to. I think we may be a while, carry on without us.” And hand in hand, they walked down the hall, up the stairs, and into their bedroom. As they did, they heard Scorpius say, “They do that a lot too.”

Along with Ara’s, “You always say that, Daddy.” 

Shortly after they arrived in their room, the two beds became one. 

 

***

 

Later, when they went back downstairs, they were surprised to see everyone in tears. Even Lucius had to keep reaching up to wipe them away. What was going on?

Ara and Scorpius were going from one adult to the other and giving each of them hugs and kisses. But this wasn’t just the normal good-night kisses. This was more. Harry felt a hand grip his heart. He knew what was happening and he couldn’t stand it. 

“No!” he cried out, “No, you can’t be. I can’t lose you.” He ran to Ara.

Draco hurried over to Scorpius and picked him up in his arms. Holding him so very tightly, Scorpius yelped a bit. “What’s going on?” he asked the room. “Someone tell us what’s happening.”

“Scorpius and I are going to be leaving now. We can both feel it.” Ara held out her hand, Harry could see that her skin was more translucent than it had been. He heard the catch in Draco’s breath and knew he had seen it too, in Scorpius’s skin.

“I think we were brought here to help you two find each other. To help you, Daddy, know that Father really is the one for you. To know, you can trust him. He loves you. He will always love you. You just needed something, or someone's to help you see that.”

Harry blinked, hoping to be able to blink away his tears. He’d come to love these two small children so much. And it was true, without them, he would never have found the joy he had felt in Draco’s arms.

“Don’t cry, Daddy. We’ll see you in the future. Everything will be fine. Scorpius had a vision last night and he assures me it will be.” 

“But we’ll miss you so much. Won’t you miss us?”

She shook her head, “No silly, we’re going back to you; there’ll be nothing for us to miss. You’re going to be there, just like you were when we left. You’re a bit older and a bit chubbier, only happier. All the things that are worrying you now are resolved.” 

Harry and Draco refused to let the children out of their sight that night, bringing them in to share their one bed together. Draco enlarged the bed to comfortably hold four. When they woke the next morning, the children were gone. 

Draco resized the bed to its normal size. It remained just the one. 

 

End


End file.
